Wrath of the White Tigress

by David Alastair Hayden

  Ezaras drank deeply of his wine. His mind raced. What should he do? He must help Bavadi in every way that he could, but he must also be careful. A rogue palymfar did exist, and that spy reported directly to Ezaras. If Bavadi found out … Ezaras's heart sank into the empty pit of his stomach. He trembled for a few moments then gained control of himself. Bavadi clearly hadn't come here to find the spy, though how the presence of a spy had been uncovered, Ezaras couldn't imagine. He only paid Ooran in case he needed to sell out the palymfar or his rivals to the Archons.

  Ezaras decided the best thing he could do was to get Bavadi's ship ready as fast as possible and send him on his way. What else could he do? Did he dare contact Ooran about this? He trusted the palymfar operative, but communicating with him could betray them to Bavadi. He would have to wait and think on it.

  Ezaras looked up from his empty wine cup and found Bavadi watching him. The merchant nearly faltered. "My lord, I … can I get you anything?"

  "Nothing, Ezaras." Bavadi stepped closer. "Why do I get the feeling you're hiding something?"

  "I…" Ezaras knew that palymfar, especially the good ones, could tell when a man lied to them. He needed a truth to cover the lie. "Well, honestly, Lord Bavadi, I must tell you that I have failed in two of the endeavors your master set for me. I was told to buy off at least one member of the Great Council and to increase opiate shipments. I have tried, my lord, I have. But I was in danger of being exposed on the opiate smuggling and had to back off. As for the council member … I've had little success. Councilors are chosen for their honesty here. It is difficult."

  "You did well. The palymfar don't reward careless smugglers." Ezaras showed far too much relief and Jaska realized he was going too soft. He leaned down and placed his hands on the arms of the chair. "However, you must corrupt a councilor soon, or we'll lose faith in you."

  "Yes, my lord. I will double all my efforts."

  "What of your other operations?"

  Ezaras brightened. "I have been highly successful, especially with slaves. As you said last time, there are many poor wretches in this city and no one misses them. My profits have doubled since you showed me what I was missing amongst the poor."

  Fear settled into Jaska. "What you were missing?" he said before he thought better of it.

  "The girls, my lord. Do you not remember? You showed me how to kidnap poor girls from the streets, clean them up, and sell them for enormous profits."

  Jaska's face blazed with anger.

  "Have, have I done something wrong, my lord?"

  Jaska gathered himself. "No, Ezaras. You sparked anger in me at a man in another city who I tried to teach the same thing but who failed to see my reasoning."

  The door opened and Telerus marched in. "Your room is ready, Lord Bavadi. The slaves have drawn a bath, and several platters of food will be waiting for you when you are finished."

  Jaska marched toward the door. "That is all for now."

  "My pleasure," Ezaras said.

  The door closed and the fat merchant poured himself another glass of wine. Jaska Bavadi must be watched closely, he thought, and he definitely needed to contact Ooran. Something was wrong here.

  ~~~

  The slightest spark flashed within Yrvas's qavra. He felt a single prick of force, no stronger than a drop of sand falling onto his skin. For a man in the throes of passion to notice this proved no mean feat. A lesser palymfar would have missed it, but his caution and attention to detail had earned Yrvas this dangerous assignment in Hectyra. He slung his favorite whore away. She crashed to the floor and whimpered but said nothing. Though a saucy, sharp-tongued bitch, she had enough wisdom to fear a riled palymfar. Yrvas chanted and connected his mind to his qavra. A familiar impulse brushed across his thoughts.

  Another palymfar sought to contact him. From somewhere in the city, he would guess, given Hectyra's shielding. Whatever it was, it had to be important. A message could be intercepted here, and the other palymfar in the city had no reason to use the contacting ritual under normal circumstances. Thinking that one of his brothers had probably been captured, Yrvas went to the center of the room and cut a slit in his palm. With his blood he drew a pentagram and sat in the midst of it.

  "Stay silent and do not move," he told the whore who had gotten up to leave. She sat back down, with her hand held to a bleeding lip.

  Faintly, a voice came to him, one he knew but not intimately. One he feared above all others.

  "My lord," Yrvas said.

  "Yrvas," Grandmaster Salahn replied. "In the city . . . traitor . . . kill . . . all costs."

  "I can't understand you, my lord."

  The Grandmaster repeated his message but Yrvas heard even less of it this time. He reached into the Shadowland where the message was strongest. That still wasn't enough.

  The prostitute watched him from the bed, fear etched onto her face. Fear gave one power. Yrvas crossed the room and backhanded her, nearly knocking her unconscious. She cried as he drug her to his pentagram. Quickly and casually, he cut her throat, spilling her blood all over his naked body. Once he would have thought this evil, before he had learned to enjoy raw power, before he saw the weak as useless and deserving of their fate.

  Now he had strength enough to hear the Grandmaster, though his voice was still a whisper. "I commend your effort, Yrvas. Jaska is on his way to Hectyra. He may be there already. The priestess Zyrella and her templar captain travel with him, and he may be in her enthrall. Do not trust Jaska. Assume that he is a traitor unless you are certain. If you have any doubt, kill him."

  Yrvas's gut wrenched; Jaska had been his mentor. "My lord…"

  "Do not underestimate him, Yrvas. Free him from her if you can, but he must be stopped. Jeopardize all our operations in Hectyra if you must. A ship bearing fifty of our brothers should reach you in five days. Delay Jaska until then if possible. Do my bidding well in this, Yrvas, and you will rise far into our ranks."

  The connection ended. Pain lanced through Yrvas, wracking his body with convulsions. He had expended far too much energy in the communication. His vision hazed over and he was vaguely aware of his head striking the floor and splashing into the whore's blood.

  When Yrvas awoke, the stench of death, cloying and hot, weighted the room. With shaking limbs, he cleaned himself and dressed slowly, moving as if in a dream, as if already dead. With only three brothers to help him, Yrvas would die if he faced Jaska and Zyrella. He would have to hire mercenaries, a lot of them. Hopefully the fifty brothers traveling by ship would get here soon enough. Hopefully he could free Jaska from this priestess. He couldn't believe his mentor a traitor. He trusted him more than he trusted the Grandmaster, though ultimately he would obey Salahn over anyone else.

  ~~~

  Grandmaster Salahn slouched, his energies expended. The last tendrils of his consciousness withdrew from the Shadowland. Mardha crossed into the now dormant pentagram and stroked his shoulders. "Did it work?"

  "Only after Yrvas sacrificed a woman. I will promote him, if he survives, to serve as Adynarh's lieutenant."

  "He won't survive if Jaska is our enemy. He has no chance at stopping him."

  "You overestimate Jaska's abilities, I think, especially without his qavra."

  Mardha scowled. "He may have configured a new one."

  "It wouldn't be easy to resist the call of his old one, nor the effect any qavra would have on bringing him back to my domination, which his mind had grown accustomed to."

  Mardha gazed absently toward the temple altar.

  Salahn sighed as he stood. "I do not like this either, Mardha. Jaska was a son to me. It is not easy to order him killed."

  "I know, father. I would have you over him any day. Do not doubt that. But he was a good companion."

  "Yes, but he was never real, only a figment of our wills brought to life in another man's body."

  ~~~

  For two days, Zyrella and Ohzikar remained at the small house in the military quarter. Disguised as a peasant with his qa
vra hidden beneath a scarf, Yrvas watched the house intently while his brothers gathered information. Zyrella and Ohzikar ate, read, and exercised in the small garden out back. Jaska, if present, never went out. Only an old soldier stayed in the house with them.

  Finding them had proven easy enough after some investigation, especially since Jaska originally sent Yrvas here four years ago to search for the priestess after Salahn had given him the ability to track her with magic. Learning whether Jaska stayed with them proved difficult, however. The priestess's wards blocked attempts to scry within the house, and Yrvas had to avoid the detection wards that would alert her to his surveillance attempts.

  Yrvas knew the look of people waiting for something, only what were these two waiting for? Jaska to return? No one had heard or seen another palymfar within Hectyra, though a few stories circulated about one seen approaching the city three days ago. People Yrvas questioned along this street had seen only the priestess and the templar entering the house.

  As dawn approached, Hyrtu arrived to replace him. "Do we move against them today?" he asked, extending a perpetually crooked smile formed by a jagged scar that creased one corner upward.

  "It's tempting," Yrvas said. "We could take them out before Jaska returns."

  "If he's not inside."

  "I don't think that he is."

  "Well, we have three days until our brothers arrive. Then we can begin a wider search."

  "You had no success then?" Yrvas asked.

  "None. I visited everyone I could. Ooran just went to see Ezaras. The fat fool claims to have new information for him. Don't know if it's about Jaska, though."

  "Does he still believe Ooran is his secret spy?"

  Hyrtu laughed. "Yes. You know, it's funny that even though Ezaras is the smartest of our allies here, none of the others fell for that ploy."

  "Everyone makes mistakes." Yrvas thought of Jaska defeated. "Everyone."

  Hyrtu nodded in understanding. Yrvas rose and patted him on the shoulder. "Have fun, you ugly whoreson. I'm going to hire some mercenaries then get some sleep."

  "I still don't get your thinking. Why don't we kill them while they're separated from Jaska?"

  Yrvas smiled as he walked away. "You're over-eager, Hyrtu. If we can help it, we kill no one until our brethren arrive. The priestess is dangerous, too. Besides, we need to be sure where Jaska is first."

  Ezaras awaited Jaska in his office, pondering what he should tell Ooran when he came later at dawn. While on his way to a banquet last night he had met with Ooran but told him nothing, even though his palymfar informant had offered a substantial reward for news of Bavadi.

  Ooran's words still haunted Ezaras: "If you see Master Bavadi, don't trust him. He's a traitor."

  But Ezaras had to trust Bavadi. He didn't dare oppose the Slayer or risk palymfar fighting within his home. As his wine cup touched his lips, Ezaras knew what he must tell Ooran--that Bavadi had left here after compelling him to obedience. Ooran wouldn't detect any lies because his story would be true. Bavadi had compelled him in those first moments.

  Bavadi slid inside so quietly that Ezaras didn't hear him until he cleared his throat. Ezaras flinched and spilled wine onto himself. He spun his chair around and his heart pounded as the Slayer loomed over him with his mask on. Except for those hellish eyes, he could have been any other palymfar.

  "You summoned me?"

  Bavadi terrified Ezaras more than when he had stayed here before because Ezaras no longer understood the man. He lacked wanton cruelty and lust, and he refused every entertainment offered.

  "I-I hope I haven't awakened you too early, Lord Bavadi."

  "I was up already. What do you want?"

  "I have finished arranging what you asked of me." Ezaras handed Bavadi a stack of stamped documents. "These are the ownership papers for the Spindrift Cloud and the orders of command for her crew and a squad of fifty mercenary marines. I have already paid the first third of their wages and these papers provide for their payment upon arrival to Issaly."

  "What if I need to stop at another port instead…"

  "The payment notices should be valid with any major mercantile operation in Pawan Kor, but you are guaranteed of the money in Issaly."

  "The ship is fully equipped with all the supplies needed?"

  "Yes, my lord."

  "And everything awaits me at this moment?"

  "The ship needs only her commander. You'll find her captain trustworthy and competent."

  "The rowers are free men?"

  "I wouldn't delay you with a crew of slaves."

  Bavadi seemed reflective. Ezaras didn't wish to interrupt him, but he did want the man to be on his way before Ooran arrived. At last Bavadi said, "Summon your two best couriers."

  Shaking under the Slayer's now intense gaze, Ezaras rang his bell and sent Telerus downstairs to wake the courier boys. Easily roused, for they had no other duty in life, the two youths arrived within minutes. The first, Jaska sent off with a message he had already written, to be delivered to a house in the military quarter. The boy swore he could find it easily enough.

  "Wait outside," Jaska told the second. "You too, Captain Telerus. Don't come back in unless I ask you to."

  Ezaras was horrified as Telerus bowed low and said, "As you command, my lord."

  Ezaras rose and spoke in anger, though he would instantly regret doing so. "How dare you compel my guard captain! Telerus, get back in here!" Ezaras rang the bell but the man didn't return.

  Jaska drew a bagh nakh. "How dare you live, Ezaras. How dare you prey upon the innocent and betray your city to the palymfar. Your current rulers are far more merciful than Salahn would be."

  Ezaras fell into his chair, a dead man already. He knew it without doubt. "You're a traitor to the palymfar."

  "No, I am a true palymfar. Your allies are the traitors." Jaska rounded the desk. "Don't even try to draw your dagger. Take out your quill instead. You are going to write a letter for me."

  "What do you wish me to write? I will give you a note for all my wealth."

  "I don't want your filthy money." Jaska leaned up against the edge of the desk. "Write a letter to the Archons detailing all your operations and your alliance with the palymfar. Name the operatives here, how you contact them, your underworld connections, everything."

  "My lord, please have mercy on me."

  "I am having mercy on you, Ezaras. Are you not still breathing?"

  Tears streaked down Ezaras's plump cheeks. "If I do as you ask, will you let me live?"

  "I might."

  Ezaras wiped sweat from his brow. "Those are harsh terms, my lord."

  "I promise that if I decide to kill you I will do it quickly and not in my usual manner. I will also spare your children, your wives, your entire household."

  "Take them instead," Ezaras pleaded. "Sate the lusts that must be burning within you. Please, master."

  Jaska's saber whisked free and cut a thin line across Ezaras's cheek. The merchant's bladder released. Urine flowed onto his chair, soaked his robes, and dripped onto the floor. Crying like a child, he tugged at Jaska.

  "What-what can I do to save my life? Please, I'll do anything."

  Jaska felt no sympathy and refrained from compelling him only because he wished him to suffer. "Obey me, that is all you can do. Your life will depend on my mood when you are finished with the letter."

  Ezaras pulled himself back up into his chair. He drew out the necessary implements and detailed his operations and alliances, covering every nuance to stall. His only chance to survive was for Ooran to arrive and help him.

  "You are being too detailed, Ezaras. Hurry up."

  "I-I thought you wanted them to know everything."

  "Enough that they can figure out the minor details. Cover all the basics."

  Ezaras continued writing but went more slowly now. Jaska touched his bagh nakh to Ezaras's throat. "Why are you stalling?"

  "To-to save my life," Ezaras muttered.

  "Your life is
worthless. You are waiting for someone to arrive. Who is coming here?" Jaska asked in a voice Ezaras couldn't resist. He had planned to use a compulsion on Ezaras anyway, to verify the letter contained no fabrications.

  "Ooran … a palymfar who is a secret informant to me, the traitor you hinted of."

  Jaska had only said that to throw Ezaras off. "A single palymfar spy cannot spare your life, not from me. Does he know that I'm here?"

  "Not yet, but he is searching for you."

  "Why?"

  "I don't know, but he came to me last night and asked for you. I said nothing but then asked him to come back this morning."

  "You sold me out?"

  "He said you were a traitor and that I couldn't trust you. I was afraid they would find out that I had helped you. After you left, I was going to tell Ooran that you had compelled me not to tell anyone you were here. He is to arrive at dawn."

  Jaska looked out at the lightening sky. "Did you do everything I asked?"

  "Yes, my lord."

  "You have not betrayed me or set a trap in any way?"

  "No, my lord."

  "Finish the letter. Tell them you had a change of heart before committing suicide, tell them you wish your wealth to be given to charities for the poor."

  Ezaras did so, sealed the letter, and stamped it with his seal. Jaska called in the message boy. "Deliver this letter to the Archons at nightfall."

  The boy left and as the door closed Jaska drew the claws of his bagh nakh across Ezaras's throat. Still compelled, the fat merchant didn't flinch or make a sound. He merely bled out and slumped in his chair. Jaska took a strange pleasure in the slaying, not in killing a man but in ending a cancer that ate at this city and its people.

  Jaska crept to the front of the room beside the door. "Telerus," he called, "if anyone comes let them in. Say nothing to them."